


Of High Heels and Hospital Bills

by writworm42



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Attempted Seduction, Bad Advice, Developing Relationship, F/F, Happy Ending, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Hilarity Ensues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 18:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1236760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writworm42/pseuds/writworm42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake finds out that Amy has a huge crush on Rosa, and decides to help her out. At the same time, Gina tries to teach Rosa how to seduce Amy. None of these lessons prove helpful, but they just might bring Rosa and Amy closer...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by tumblr user Lunadove's awesome headcanon (you'll find it in the rosa x amy tag); I liked it, so with their permission I developed it into a story, adding in Rosa and Gina. Hope you all enjoy it! :)

“Ugh!” Amy shut the drawer of the filing cabinet as fast as she’d whipped it open, the cold clang of hollow metal ringing through the room. “Peralta!”

“Yes, Detective Jam-for-Files?” she jumped at his voice, smug and struggling to maintain a semblance of calm. Amy, for her part, wasn’t exactly in a meditative mood, either; glaring at Peralta now, standing inches away from him, she struggled to keep composure, her only motivator being that Captain Holt’s office was just beyond them.

She’d never let the Captain see her lose control.

On _purpose_ , at least.

“Peralta,” Amy repeated, her voice shaking as it walked the thin line between civility and rage, “Would you like to explain _why_ you filled the entire cabinet with _strawberry jelly_?”

“Raspberry jam, actually. Which I thought would have been implied in ‘Jam-for-Files’. You’re slipping, Santiago.” Peralta winked, his arms resting jauntily on his waist. Amy gritted her teeth.

“Just answer the damn question.”

“Well, I guess you could say I thought it would be a _sweet_ ide—Ow!” Peralta clutched the back of his head suddenly, his face twisting in pain. Amy looked up, trying to find the source of the disruption, and her blood ran cold.

Rosa Diaz was standing behind Peralta, her hand still raised in the air as if she were readying to hit him again.

“R—Rosa…” Amy stammered, heat rising in her legs, her chest, her cheeks, “What are you doing?”

“I hate bad puns almost as much as I hate bad pranks.” Rosa’s voice was non-chalant, her gaze steady as it glided coolly from Amy back over to Peralta. “If you’re gonna mess with Amy, do it right.”

“Or, you know… Not at all.” Amy added with a cautious laugh, her stomach flipping more erratically with every word.

“Yeah…” Rosa didn’t laugh back, only looked at the other woman with an unreadable expression, “Or not at all.” With that, she let her hand fall back to her side, smiling with contempt as Jake relaxed in front of her, and sauntered away from them, away from Amy. Amy watched Rosa go, watched the bouncing of her curls and falling, heavy steps of her feet as she made her way back to her desk, dropped back into her chair and began to slam at the keyboard, and sighed.

Rosa was incredibly cool. Had always been.

And Amy never would be.

“Seriously, though,” Peralta snapped Amy out of her thoughts, drawing them back to the jam-filled cabinet, “I thought it would be fun to eat the jam right out of the jar for lunch with you, but Scully kept finding it in the fridge, so I had Charles sanitize the cabinets and then I put the jam where I was sure Scully would never look.”

“What?” Amy snapped in Peralta’s direction without looking, her eyes still fixed within Rosa’s general area.

“I said—“

“Oh my god, Peralta!” she put up a hand to silence him, “That doesn’t even make sense. Now will you quiet down?”

“Yeah,” his voice dropped, becoming low and mellow, “Whatever. You know, you’d probably get a better vantage point from your own desk, where you’re supposed to be working and all.”

“You’re right.” her hand fell, and she looked away from Rosa long enough to turn a small smile at Jake, “I would get a better vantage point.”

“What are you even looking at?” Jake’s question sounded curious, but Amy had known him long enough to sense the irritation edging his voice.

“Nothing,” she answered quickly and smoothly, her smile widening as she began to walk towards her desk, “Nothing at all.”

When had lying become so easy, so instantaneous?

Leaning back into her chair, Amy wiped the question from her mind, knowing that the answer didn’t really matter. What _did_ was that she was still safe, still undercover. Still able to see Rosa without being seen herself.

Exhaling deeply, she reached over and switched on her monitor.

 

It was around lunchtime when she looked up again, so absorbed in her work that even Rosa couldn’t tear her away from her computer.

Three more files to process, four more stacks of paperwork to do, and she would be satisfied.

Two more.

One more.

Okay, maybe just _one_ more. It was like an addiction, to Amy; the thrill of chasing words and facts across her screen, the euphoric high of sending in yet another file to the Captain’s drop-box, bagging up a bad-guy for good. With every step she completed in the paperwork, a little more order was restored to the precinct; what better way to derive pleasure than in cleaning up crime, one signature at a time?

Still, even heroes like herself needed time off, and so at exactly twelve every day, Amy took her lunch-break. Leaning back in her chair, Amy rubbed her eyes, letting them wander away from the glare of her computer and surveying the goings-on of the station. Boyle, also prepping for his lunch, was thumbing through his bib-drawer, trying to decide if navy or powdered-blue better matched his tie. Terry, never one to wait for food, had taken his lunch at eleven and was settled back into his work, the empty shell of a yogurt-cup resting on his stack of files, keeping them steady. Gina, for her part, was staring at Amy, giggling every so often; Amy scrunched her face, hoping that Gina would get the message but knowing she wouldn’t.

And then there was Rosa. Amy couldn’t look for very long, at first, only cast fleeting glances before looking down at nothing, her heart in her throat. Rosa wasn’t even _doing_ anything, only reviewing some case-files for a drug bust she was working on with Peralta, and yet still, Amy was hyper-aware of her movements, taking stock of everything Rosa was doing. Rosa looked up, and Amy snapped her gaze down again, trying not to blow her cover.

_Is she looking at me? Does she know?_

_Oh, God, she can’t know…_

“Being productive, Santiago?”

“What do you want?” Amy looked up again to find Peralta hovering over her desk, smug smile plastered on his face. She grimaced; she was hungry, she was tired, and she was still unsure if Rosa had caught her in the act of creeping, which meant she was _definitely_ not in the mood to put up with his shit. And it _had_ been a lot to deal with lately; between the jam incident this morning, the random calls to his desk, and his other tired shenanigans, Amy had barely spent a moment _without_ Peralta, even though they hadn’t had a case together in weeks. And every second he took from her, he took away from Rosa.

“Nothing,” he replied reproachfully, stepping back a little, “No need to get all irritated, it wasn’t like you were doing anything.” He was right, in a way; Amy softened, relaxing in her chair a bit as he continued, “Anyway, I know you’re about to take lunch now, so I was thinking you and I could go for pizza? Sal’s is back running.”

“Sal’s is disgusting,” Amy snapped matter-of-factly, “Don’t you read Boyle’s weekly e-mail blasts? It’s only seventh in mouth feel.”

“What? Why would anybody—“ Jake shook his head and sighed. “Fine, whatever. Don’t go out to lunch with me. Enjoy whatever boring gluten-free sandwich you packed for yourself, Santiago.”

“For your information, it’s a brie and turkey sub.” Santiago looked beyond Peralta, craning her neck to see where Rosa was sitting, check if she was watching the spat develop. Rosa loved conflict, and Amy was sure that the other woman had taken notice of what was going on between her colleagues. If she had, though, she left no indication; other than a few flitting glares and a tighter-than-normal grip on the stress-ball Terry had given her for Christmas, Rosa was completely focused on her work.

That was good, right? Sure, she hadn’t noticed Amy, but on the other hand, was that really what Amy wanted?

 _Yes_.

Just not like this.

“Santiago? Santiago!” Peralta snapped his fingers in front of Amy’s face, forcing her back into reality. She swallowed.

“I asked what’s bothering you lately, you seem really distracted.” Peralta’s tone of voice was soft, caring, even, enough to make Amy cringe. She knew what was going on, knew what he wanted from her, what he was expecting, and it made her want to scream. Peralta wasn’t a bad guy, and Amy didn’t want to hurt him, not really; so why was he interested in her? Why couldn’t he get the message?

“Nothing.” the lie came out like it always did; smooth, quick, without feeling. Loud enough that everyone could hear, quiet enough that no one would suspect it. Staring at Rosa, Amy repeated herself, this time with more conviction. “Nothing at all.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Rosa was livid. Her week hadn’t exactly been brilliant—she’d broken up with her boyfriend, the evidence in a few of her cases had been mishandled, and her mother was in town—but Rosa was a grown woman. She could handle separation, could buckle down and re-start her cases. Could grin and bear it through every shopping trip and snippy comment about grandchildren.

But having to deal with Peralta?

It made Rosa want to shove her stress-ball down his—

“Hey, Diaz,” Boyle’s interruption came cautiously, his hands instinctively hovering around his face, “You… You seem a little stressed, and we were all wondering if—“

“Stressed?” she snapped, squeezing her ball so hard it popped, loud and hollow and ringing. “I’m not any more _stressed_ than the rest of you jerks. Mind your own business.”

“Ahhh…. You know what, I’m gonna take lunch.” Boyle excused himself, scurrying away. Rosa watched him go, trying her best to ignore the guilt worming its way into her chest. She hadn’t meant to snap at Boyle, not really; it was just that he was there, an easy target, and she had never been one to suppress her feelings.

_Well, except for—_

Slamming down the tattered, sweaty shreds of plastic left in her hand, Rosa stood up and took off away from her desk, rocketing towards the break-room. She was tired and she was irritated; lunch, she reasoned, would probably do her good. Lunch was a new task, a new subject to focus on.

Lunch meant not having to be angled towards the one thing in the world that could distract her.

Walking into the breakroom, Rosa tried to put any thoughts of Amy out of her mind. She hadn’t _meant_ to fall for Santiago; things were easier when she maintained an affectionate disdain for her co-workers, didn’t get too close. Too emotional.

But how could she resist her? Casting a glance into the corner of the room, Rosa watched Amy, whose back was turned, scarfing a sandwich, the food staying perfectly within the margins of the bread. Amy tried so hard to be perfect, and yet there was always some flaw, something that in all her worry she’d overlooked. Today, it was the fact that she’d forgotten to tuck in the back of her shirt. Tomorrow, it might be that the Captain caught her snooping around his office. Again.

Amy tried to be a phony, tried to put up an air of professionalism, but she couldn’t do it; she was way too sincere.

How could Rosa maintain contempt for someone like that?

Amy straightened up, suddenly aware that she was being watched, and Rosa averted her gaze just in time.

“H-Hey, Diaz…”

“What do you need?” Rosa kept looking straight in front of her, opening the fridge and playing it cool as she busied herself sorting through Terry’s yogurts.

“Um… Nothing. I was just—Nothing. You’re probably busy.”

Realizing what Amy was asking her, Rosa straightened up, snapping to attention. “If you got something to ask,” she refuted in a manner much more calm than she felt, “I’m not—“

“Hey, Diaz, would you mind clearing out?” Peralta popped his head into the breakroom, cutting Rosa off at the pass. “It’s my lunchtime, and I like not having to eat in a state of fear. Amy can stay, though.”

Rosa grimaced, unable to swallow her irritation. Walking over to where Peralta was leaning lazily up against the doorway, her agitation turned into amusement as she watched him lose his nerve and move back, just barely stepping out of her reach.

“Or all three of us could eat together.” he squeaked out finally, frozen in stiff terror.

“Yeah,” powerless to resist, Rosa leaned forward into Peralta’s face and pushed him back into the main office, gritting her teeth, “We can.”

Making their way back into the break-room however, Amy was already gone, her sandwich still left half-finished on the corner table. Peralta wasted no time. Swooping down, he grabbed up the leftovers, enthusiastically ripping off a bite.

“That’s disgusting.”

“And yet,” Peralta smiled between what looked like brie, lettuce, and smoked turkey, “It was free.”

Rosa rolled her eyes and went back to the fridge, too tired to argue.

 

After lunch, it was back to work, back to pretending. Rosa had just started a new case, a serial mugger, and it was way too open-and-shut for her liking. Open-and-shut cases were boring. They left her with too much time to herself. Jotting down some notes about the perp’s suspected route, she began to work on a request for undercover action. The form itself was easy; state your name, where you wanted to go, why you felt it was necessary. And yet, there was one blank she just couldn’t fill in.

REQUESTED PARTNER

Rosa swallowed hard, letting her eyes wander over to the inevitable.

And that asshat Peralta was with her. Craning her neck, Rosa could see exactly what was going on in Amy’s corner, hear the edge in Amy’s voice as she tried to get Peralta away from her desk. Jake, for his part, was being his usual self, chanting taunts of “I’m here! I’m away! I’m here! I’m away!” as he leaped back and forth in the spaces between private and general territories. Growling, Rosa put down the file she’d been keeping in her lap and rocketed out of her chair, storming over to where the dispute was unfolding.

“You’re not gonna get rid of me, Santia—“ Rosa cut Peralta off with yet another smack to the head. “Seriously?” he turned around to shoot her a hurt and confused look, “Again?”

“Do I need to answer that?” she frowned down at him, and he shook his head.

“Sorry, Santiago.” He sighed theatrically.

“Now, scram. I gotta talk to Santiago anyway.”

“What? You don’t own—“

“I said _scram_.” Rosa leaned forward, raising her fist again, and Peralta got the message, leaping out of Rosa’s reach and practically jogging back to his desk.

“Umm… Thanks.” Amy stood up to greet Rosa properly, hovering uncomfortably within her personal space. “So… Um… You needed something?”

“I’m gonna go undercover soon. You wanna be my partner?”

“Sure!” Rosa’s question was barely out when Amy jumped in with her reply, and Rosa frowned despite the sudden hope the reaction filled her chest with.

“Don’t get so excited,” she warned reproachfully, “It’s just a small case, open-and-shut. And it’s my arrest.”

“Sorry.” Amy coughed, looking away, “Well, thank you very much for asking, and I will definitely try my b—“

“Great,” Rosa rolled her eyes, “I’ll put your name down.” with that, she walked away, and the buoyant feeling in her chest began to subside. It wasn’t that she’d wanted to be rude to Santiago; it was just that there, in that moment, she’d felt like smiling, felt like shouting, like doing a ton of things that were _not_ very in-character. Stuff that would completely blow her cover. Sighing, she sat back at her computer and finished up her form.

“Wow, Rosa.” when Rosa approached Gina with the finished request file, the secretary was already waiting for her, a sarcastic, yet somehow knowing smile plastered over her face. “Is that why you’re so on edge today?”

“What are you talking about?” Rosa snapped, knowing _exactly_ what Gina was talking about.

“ _Don’t get so excited. It’s my arrest._ ” Gina imitated Rosa, dropping her voice at least an octave. As if to add insult to injury, Gina mimed blowing up a stress-ball before finally devolving into a fit of obnoxious snickering. “You are not very good with feelings, are you?”

“Shut up, Gina.” Rosa responded bluntly, “It’s none of your business.”

“Well, I don’t know what’s got you so hyped up.” Gina leaned back in her chair, glancing over at Amy before continuing with a quiet voice, “I could help you, you know.”

“Really?” Rosa laughed contemptfully, perhaps a little too loudly, hoping to hide the pounding in her chest, “You could help me. _You_. Thank you, Gina. I’ll pass.” dumping her file in front of Gina, she turned and went back to her desk, still chuckling to herself.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about!” the secretary called after her, and Rosa wanted badly to shout back, to shut her up, but resisted the urge, instead turning her attention to where Peralta was singing a love-song in Amy’s direction.

She had bigger things to worry about.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey, Santiago, can I see you in the interrogation room?”

Amy cringed at Peralta’s voice, her grip tightening on the pencil in her hand. All week, he’d been on her with pranks, songs, and invitations, and all week, she’d been avoiding him, never saying _no_ , but hoping he’d get the message. And, of course, because he was Peralta, he never did, only waited for her in different places, came to her at more and more inconvenient times. Like now, when she was trying to copy out the details of the mugging case that Rosa had given her so she’d be fully prepared for their first undercover stint tomorrow.

She would be going undercover alone with Rosa. Tomorrow. And instead of prepping, here she was talking to Peralta.

“What is it?” she looked up cautiously, hand still writing out her notes by muscle-memory, “Can’t you just tell me here?”

Peralta grimaced, confirming Amy’s suspicion that his request to see her wasn’t about a business concern.

“Look, Peralta—“ she began, but he held up a hand, signalling for her to stop.

“Can we just do this in the interrogation room, please? It’s empty right now, and I really want to talk to you in private.”

Amy rolled her eyes, but obliged, getting out of her chair and following him out of the main office area. On the way, she couldn’t resist but sneak a peek at Rosa’s desk, to check if she was looking.

She wasn’t.

Amy forced herself to look away.

Once Peralta had closed the door behind them, leaving them alone and isolated, Amy began to undo, her words all falling out at once. “Look, Peralta—You’rereallyniceandallbutIdon’tlikeyoulikethatbecausethere’s…” she stopped suddenly, her breath choking her in her throat. The other things had come out so easily; why couldn’t she say _this_?

There’s someone else.

There’s. Someone. Else.

Not hard words, so why couldn’t she say that—

“There’s someone else.” Peralta sighed, turning away from Santiago and pounding the air with his fist, “I knew it.”

“It’s nothing against you, it’s just that—“

“You don’t have to explain anything to me. If you don’t like me, I don’t want to be the guy who chases after you and ignores the signs. Which I kind of have been already, so… I’m sorry for that.”

Amy smiled, suddenly feeling a rush of affection for Peralta. He may have been a hard-head, and immature at times, but he always meant well, and that made him a great friend, if not anything else.

“So, if I can ask… Who is it?” her affection dried up, however, the minute he dropped that question, warm feelings replaced with the sudden, free-falling sensation of an unreasonable panic.

“It’s… No one.” Amy lied just as quickly as usual, but with more difficulty, an edge of guilt in her voice. She hoped it was small enough for Peralta to ignore, fast enough that he wouldn’t notice, but she knew him; unless he wanted it to, nothing ever got past Peralta.

“You’re lying,” she cringed at his smile, the amusement in his voice, “Who is it? Is it Boyle? The Captain? Scully?”

“Oh my god, _stop_!” Amy made a face, “No. Why would it be—Never mind.”

“What? _Some_ body married all three of them at least once.”

Amy laughed, then sucked in a slow, calming breath. It was now or never, and Jake probably wouldn’t let her leave until he’d gotten the info he’d wanted.

Besides, didn’t she trust him?

“It’s Rosa.” Amy said, looking directly at Peralta. “I’ve had a huge, huge crush on her for a really long time, and it’s just not going anywhere. She’s just so cool, and bad-ass, and mysterious! And I’m… Just Amy.”

“I knew it,” Peralta noted smugly, “I can read you like an open book, Santiago.” he leaned back onto the interrogation table, probably intending to look victorious, but missed the ledge of the surface and faltered, stepping back and hitting his hip on a sharp edge. “Ah.” he muttered plainly, rubbing the spot where it hit, “That is definitely going to bruise.

“Now,” he continued, “With reference to your odious non-personality and no doubt terrible taste in women—“

“What do you mean, terrible?” Amy protested.

“First of all, you don’t know anything about her. No one does. Second, I don’t think she has feelings, but not in the robotic Captain way; in the sexy, fear-boner way. Which brings me to my third point: she’s way out of your league.”

Amy couldn’t argue with his logic, so she went the petulant route and stuck out her tongue.

“Hey, don’t do that!” Peralta shot back, looking genuinely hurt. “I’m going to chalk that up to sexual frustration—which is kind of hot—and forgive you so I can finish what I was originally going to say.”

“Please do.”

“I do kinda want to see you two get together. I think it would be as cute as the prospect is hilarious. Like that movie with the two dudes and the apartment.”

“You mean _The Odd Couple_?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what you and Rosa would make!” he snapped his fingers as if coming to a big revelation. “Anyway, I care about both of you guys, and I want to see you happy. But, since you obviously have no idea how to do this on your own, you’re gonna need a lot of help.”

“And this help is supposed to be from…” Amy leaned back skeptically, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She knew exactly what he was going to say, but let him say it anyway.

“Peralta’s School of Lady-Killing, son!”

“Don’t say son.”

“Sorry. But what do you say? Yes or no?” Amy looked Peralta up and down, weighing the possibilities with the costs, before sighing heavily and nodding her head.

“Fine. But you’re not doing this at my apartment, I’m not buying you drinks, and if you tell anyone, I’ll have Rosa find you in your sleep.”

“Mmm…” Jake’s face became unreadable, “I know I’m supposed to be scared, but it just kind of goes up as a defense mechanism…”

“Oh my god! Stop! What is wrong with you?!” Amy stepped back, her hands up and shoulders hunched in disgust.

“Can’t control it. Anyway, sit down, let’s start strategizing.”

Amy complied, her heart pounding faster. It was time to get to work; she just hoped she wasn’t wasting her time. “Aye-aye, Captain.” 


	4. Chapter 4

Amy and Jake had barely slipped into the interrogation room before Rosa was out of her chair and pacing the floor of the station.

“Well, hey, what’s wrong, Di—“ without even looking at who it was, Rosa screamed, low and guttural, and struck out, hitting Hitchock square in the face and knocking him to the floor. She could have stopped there; she knew how to contain her anger, had read all the books Sarge had given her and made little dog-eared notes like a good little girl. She could have stopped after Hitchcock; she didn’t want to. She continued to rampage.

The interrogation room was empty, and Amy was supposed to be getting ready for an investigation with _her._ But now that was ruined, because _he_ had to be stealing her and trying to…

“Stupid fucking Peralta,” she growled to herself, running over to his desk and giving one of the cabinets a good kick, denting it. “I’ll show him to mess with—“

“Whoa, crazy-train!” Gina materialized suddenly, hands up in surrender as she forced herself in-between Rosa and the NYPD property she was currently destroying. “Might wanna slow down, because I think you just completely overshot Psych-Patient Station.”

Rosa sucked a breath in sharply, forcing her foot back to the ground and her fists to unfurl. Looking around herself, she saw that everyone was staring at her, mouths agape, and realized that they had no idea what was going on; in most Diaz reactions, there was  an obvious reason for her outburst, a faulty computer or a witness that was stuttering just a little too much for her to hold her patience. But she doubted anyone but she herself had even _seen_ Peralta and Amy slip into the interrogation room, or that they thought it was anything out of the ordinary for them to go there. She was completely in the wrong.

_You’re losing it, Diaz._

_You’re losing her._

“I’m losing her.” Diaz muttered again, the realization stabbing at her chest and making her, for once, more sad than she was enraged.

“Oh, is that what this is about?” Gina laughed, putting her hands down and straightening up a little. “Well, I _love_ to tell you this, but what’s that? Oh, yes, I was right. Aw. _Sad_.”

“Shut up.” Rosa threatened, balling up a fist. Gina complied, jumping a little as she mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key. They stood there for a moment more before Rosa finally cracked, accepting the fact that Gina _was_ right, no matter how much that hurt her pride.

“All right, look, I need your help.” she adjusted her weight so that she was leaning back, propped up on one hip, “But we stay quiet about it. No live-tweeting. And if this doesn’t work, you’re dead to me.”

“Um, I’m not concerned about that, because it _will_ work, since I _am_ amazing.” Gina frowned. “But fine. No live-tweeting. Now, you know where my apartment is—I will be expecting you to drive me there after work, and we can work on fixing… All this.” she gestured around the detective’s body, and it was Rosa’s turn to frown.

“What wrong with this?”

“Oh, sweetie…” Gina laughed, extending a hand to pat Rosa on the shoulder. On instinct, Rosa grabbed Gina’s wrist and bent it backward, warranting a small squeak.

“Ookay,” Gina recoiled her hand, wrestling it out of Rosa’s grip, and nodded. “We’ll work on that.” 


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn’t even noon on day 1 of Operation Amrosa, and Amy already wanted to kill herself. Despite the fact that complications had meant the undercover work was postphoned, Amy had been up late last night prepping, following every inch of Peralta’s insanely detailed “patented” beauty routine, and since putting their plan into action, _everything_ had gone wrong. First, there was the problem of footwear; Peralta had given Amy a pair of heels to wear, which, of course, the captain had confiscated, leaving her wandering around the station in a pair of lost-and-found work-boots she could _feel_ the fungus in. Then Rosa had come in 15 minutes late, which meant that the well-timed schedule Amy had so nicely put up for herself was completely shot, as was her confidence. Without minutes to follow, how could Amy expect to be productive? Still, Peralta had told her, keep going. Keep trying. And so she did, following each of his tips at any chance she got. And each of those tips had gone horribly wrong.

 _Drop violence at any moment in the conversation_. Apparently, walking into the same room as Rosa, losing your nerve, and just screaming, “Blood!” before running out was _not_ what Peralta had in mind.

 _Don’t say anything, just stare_. As she had discovered, this was actually a perfect way to make Rosa think you were challenging her authority, which Rosa did _not_ take kindly to.

 _Wriggle your hips or something when you walk_. Amy’s entire body hurt, and she thought she sprained an ankle trying to catwalk in lost-and-found shoes.

 _Work your angles._ Amy had sauntered over to Rosa’s desk as fast as the oversized boots would let her, then perched herself on Rosa’s desk, sticking out her behind and chest the way that Peralta had taught her.

“Something wrong with your back, Santiago?”

Amy straightened up, resisting the urge to run away that was slowly mounting within her.

“No,” she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth through the lie, “That’s just… A position I find comfortable.” perhaps most strangely, when Amy opened her eyes, she saw that Rosa was standing and frowning, but not at her; instead Rosa seemed to be looking over Amy’s shoulder as she spoke.

“If your back is hurting, let me… Break... No… Heimlich… No…”

Amy looked behind herself, but could see nothing suspicious, unless she counted Gina suddenly being very interested in the mirror on her desk (she didn’t).

“It’s not that my back is hurting!” Amy quickly turned back to Rosa, trying to posture herself attractively as she started over, “It’s just that… I… Um… The perp’s accomplice is in the interrogation room.” sighing, she gave up on conversation and shut her mouth, barely breathing as she waited for Rosa to speak.

_Come on, why aren’t you saying anything?_

“Good. Let’s go there and make ou—I mean, let’s go there and make out… where the next location will be. Of the mugging. Because his accomplice will know. Shut up. Give me fifteen minutes.”

Amy obliged, happy to have any excuse to get out of there. _Why_ had she listened to Peralta, she’d never know, but she was in deep now, and had bigger things to worry about.

Amy walked into the interrogation room, behind the double-sided mirror, and got a good look at the accomplice before Rosa walked in. She’d ditched the lost-and-found shoes, and found that it was much easier to focus on work when she didn’t have to worry about whatever cesspool her feet were festering in.

 Sighing, she put the morning’s incidents out of her mind and surveyed the accomplice, trying to get a good look at him. _Mike Harvey_ , his file had said. Age 25. Mike was a tall man, though not stocky, with acne scars contouring the hollows of his cheek-bones where most would have decided to grow a beard. He stared straight ahead of himself, drumming the table, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. His file said he’d turned himself in.

This was going to be easy, then.

The door opened, and Rosa walked in.

“Okay, I just wanted to brief you before I got start—Santiago, are you okay?” Rosa stopped in her tracks, frowning deeply at Amy, who had broken into a fit of coughing the moment Rosa had entered the room.

“I’m… Fine…” Amy choked, trembling as she brought her hands to her throat. She couldn’t see Rosa any more, not behind the tears that had begun to well up in her eyes, blurring her vision, but she could sense the concern coming off of her partner in waves. “Are you… Wearing… Perfume?”

“Why?” Rosa’s question was pointed, accusatory, and Amy shook her head, unable to choke out an apology. “Oh, God, Santiago, you’re not allergic to that, too, are you?” the realization dawned on her partner, and Rosa’s voice changed from angry to panicked.

Amy nodded, gasping.

“I…” Rosa started before trailing off, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like _Damnit, Gina_. Amy coughed again, the scratching in her throat beginning to sear. “ _Fuck_. hold on, I’ll get the captain.”

Moments later, Amy was lying in the back of Terry’s van, the sharp edge of an Epi-pen pressed to her thigh.

“That was close,” Terry’s voice, disembodied in her allergic haze, droned somewhere beside her, “Good thing we have so many Epi-pens in the lost and found, or we would have had to take you to the hospital.”

Amy grunted, unable to be as enthused as the Sarge’s voice sounded.

“Anyway, Peralta’s here, too, and he’s offered to drive you home. Since you have that undercover sting tomorrow, the captain wants to make sure you’re nice and rested and not… Quite as swollen.”

“What?” Amy croaked, “I’m swollen?”

“It’s not bad,” Terry lied, “You’re just a little rounder and… Blotchier than usual. Like a fruit. A really, really overripe fruit.”

 _Great_. So much for Peralta’s beauty tips. Amy would be lucky if she could ever show her face in the precinct again, much less in front of Rosa.

She heard a door close, heard the high-pitched zipping of a seatbelt being pulled and clicked into place. The disembodied voice, the one she knew belonged to Peralta, she _thought_ belonged to him, said something again, but it wasn’t something she could make out. She was too tired.

The car began to move, and Santiago fell into sleep. 


	6. Chapter 6

Rosa’s eyes snapped open to the sound of her alarm clock blaring, loud and intrusive. Groaning, and slammed a fist down on the machine, silencing it, before turning over and curling into a ball, wondering how long she could stay there.

Today was the undercover mission.

Gina’s voice was still ringing in Rosa’s ears, raspy and exasperated, chastising her for the disaster that had been yesterday’s events. Rosa hadn’t just freaked out—she’d sent Amy into anaphylactic shock.

Gina had said not to get discouraged; lying in bed now, though, it was hard for Rosa not to feel like she’d hit rock bottom. Sighing, she turned back over, reaching out and grabbing her phone. She took out her contacts, thumb hovering over Amy’s number for a second before she moved over and dragged the screen down, hitting Gina’s name and waiting for it to dial.

“Linetti manor and residences, how may I help thee?”

“Stop being stupid.” it only took Gina’s tired drawl, coming right after the first ring, for Rosa to remember how irritated she was at the woman. The perfume had been _her_ suggestion, as had been the interrogation, and the idea that Rosa shouldn’t say anything unless Gina had mimed it to her first; Gina was completely to blame for the hole Rosa had worked herself into.

“Ouch, Rosa, no need to be so cold this early in the morning.” had Gina been human, Rosa was sure she would have heard an audible note of hurt in her voice.

“Shut up,” Rosa grunted, “I don’t even know why I’m still asking you for help.”

“Uh, I don’t know, maybe because you desperately need it?”

“I said shut up.” Rosa forced herself out of bed, stretching as she walked towards her closet. “I’m meeting Santiago in an hour and a half, I need to know what to wear.”

“Ah, so someone finally needs my fashion advice. Hm,” Gina mused, “Well, as luck would have it, I picked out the perfect outfit for you yesterday after the whole Epi-pen fiasco.”

“Perfect outfit?” Rosa let her hand fall off her closet door, turning around and pressing her back to its surface, “What does that mean?”

“It _means_ that we’re going to give you a more feminine, sexy image. I even got you underwear. That’s right. I thought _that_ far ahead.”

“Do you even know my size?”

Gina sighed heavily, as if the answer should be obvious. “That’s the beauty of thrift shops, Rosa. Everything is one-size-fits-all.”

“Whatever, Linetti.” Rosa closed her eyes, bringing a hand up to massage her temples. “Just be here as soon as possible. And I better like whatever outfit you picked out for me.”

 

Rosa did _not_ like the outfit that Gina picked out for her.

She hurried along 54th Street, every step an effort in the shiny stilettos Gina had forced her to put on, cringing at the November cold as it buffeted against her exposed midriff. Her shorts, too, were barely there, letting the itchy lace God-knows-what that Gina had picked out hang in view every time she took a step wider than 10 centimetres. She’d barely been walking for ten minutes, and she’d already beaten up three would-be harassers, scaring off countless more, which made her feel irritated as all get-out.

“Seriously, who looks good in hot pink, anyway?” she growled to herself as she rounded the corner, coming into the area where Santiago was already waiting. Exhaling, she replaced her usual expression with the forced, vacant smile she and Gina had practiced ad nauseum, trying not to grimace at how uncertain the whole get-up made her feel.

“Hey, Dia— _Oh_.” Amy turned around to greet Rosa, an expression of absolute shock immediately coming over her face. “I… ah… I didn’t know we were supposed to be hookers…”

 _I’ll fucking_ kill _Gina when I get home._

Rosa forced herself to laugh.

“D-Did I say something funny?” Amy frowned in confusion, and Rosa cringed inwardly.

_No, you didn’t, you’re perfect, you’re fine, don’t think that it’s your fault, I’m sorry—_

“Nah,” Rosa played off her nerves non-chalantly. Pointing her chin to Amy, she switched the subject, “So, how’re you feeling?”

“Oh…” Amy looked up from Rosa’s stomach, straight into her eyes, “Much better. Everything’s just… Hunky-dory.” she turned away from Rosa, embarrassed, and Rosa laughed.

“Good to hear.” Then, becoming more serious, she added, “I’m really sorry about that. I’m supposed to have your back, and I didn’t.”

Amy shook her head. “It wasn’t your fault. I should have told the captain, he could have notified people about my allergy. I don’t know, I guess I never figured I’d need it—normally, only Gina ever wears perfume.”

“Yeah,” Rosa cut in urgently, knowing that she was in imminent danger of Amy putting two and two together, “Hey, isn’t that our guy?”

“Where?” Amy turned to look where Rosa was pointing, her face falling when she realized that Rosa had tricked her. “Wow, Diaz, mature.”

Rosa snickered. “Just making sure your senses were working.”

“Yeah.”

They stood for a few moments, the silence hanging between them, both of them trying not to stare at each other. Rosa racked her brain, trying to think of what topics she could bring up, what she might be able to say to bring them closer. But the silence had been going on for too long; it would look weird now if she said anything.

“Oh, there’s our perp for real. Let’s go.” Rosa looked up and followed Amy’s gesture to see a young Asian man, short but muscular, walking towards them, looking around himself as if they weren’t even there.

“Yeah,” Rosa nodded as the guy stepped closer, moving closer to Amy, practically breathing down her neck. Amy moved away, and Rosa ignored the hurt—they were under cover. The guy was practically on them, now, and had begun to crack his knuckles.

_All right, Diaz. Show time._

“Come on,” she insisted, moving closer, waiting for him to get just a little nearer, “Let’s get going, Lacey—NYPD, HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD, DOWN ON THE GROUND, _NOW_.” pulling her gun from her bra, she pointed it at the guy and waited for Amy to get a hold of him.

“Lacey?” Amy questioned teasingly as she cuffed the perp, who had dropped obediently to his knees. If Rosa were a different type of girl, she might have blushed, giving away the very-itchy inspiration for the name. But she was Diaz, and so she just shrugged coolly.

_After you bag the perp, take a step towards her, then lean in, lay an arm on her shoulder, and say your catchphrase._

If she were a different type of girl, Gina’s directions would have been easy for Rosa to follow. If she were a different type of girl, she would have _had_ a catchphrase. But she was Diaz, and so when she took a step forward to talk to Amy, her ankles finally gave way. 


	7. Chapter 7

“Santiago? Santiaaaagoooo…” Amy blinked, her eyes fuzzy as they shook off hours of sleep and sedation.

“Peralta?” Amy tried to pick her head up as her vision steadied, only to feel a searing pain. She dropped back onto the pillow beneath her. “Where am I?”

“The hospital. Rosa sent you here with a concussion. So how was it? Rough? Kinky? Combination of both? _Tch._ Classic Diaz.”

“What?” Amy frowned, “No! We didn’t… We didn’t have sex.”

Jake only blinked in response. Rolling her eyes, Santiago tried again, “We were out catching the serial mugger. I’d cuffed the guy, Rosa stepped forward, it all went black. I think she must have tripped and knocked me over; I probably hit my head on the pavement.”

“So you were concussed because she was heavy on top of you?” Jake smiled, raising his hand for a high-five.

“No, _not_ high-five. Absolutely not.” Amy scolded. Jake shook his head, beginning to utter some comeback about Amy being uptight, when there was a knock at the door.

“Ooh, I think that’s Rosa!” Jake whispered, crouching down a little, “Quick, pass out. Not like that! Sexier! Spread your legs out, head at an angle, come on, Santiago, haven’t you ever watched porn?”

Amy made a face in Peralta’s direction but obliged his instructions, adjusting her position in the bed so that she was splayed out passively, taking up the whole surface.

“Come in!” Peralta called.

“How is she?” Captain Holt stepped into the room, and Amy couldn’t help but squeak. Straightening up, she tried to answer him enthusiastically, only to cause herself the same pain she’d experienced the last time. Grimacing, she settled back down into her bed, heaving a heavy sigh.

“That’s too bad, Santiago,” Holt nodded to her, “You have my sympathies. Detective Diaz also wanted to come and say hello, but Gina told me that she would be… Unable. I’m not quite sure why, something about… Not being needy.”

“That’s kind of a weird thing to say.” Jake frowned dubiously.

“… Yeah.” Holt simply stared at Jake before turning back to Amy. “I wanted to come by to thank you for your bravery, and to tell you that I can’t wait to have you back on the force. Now, you focus on getting better.”

When Amy opened her eyes again, the captain was gone, but Peralta was still standing over her, arms crossed in disbelief.

“Dude,” he laughed, “You legit just passed out because Holt called you brave and said he wanted you back on the force.”

“Oh my God…” Amy groaned, slowly turning her head towards the door, “Did he see?”

“I’m tempted to say yes just to see your reaction, but my rule is never kick an animal off the road until it’s actually dead, so… No, Santiago, he didn’t see you.”

“Thank goodness.” Amy relaxed again, a little smile of satisfaction coming over her face. It was short-lived, however, because of Peralta chiming in again with a severe look on his face.

“I don’t know why you’re so happy. You’re vulnerable, which is an opportunity, but Rosa’s refusing to come see you. I think you’re losing the battle.”

Amy frowned and closed her eyes, signifying she didn’t want to talk to Peralta any more.

“Nice try, Santiago!” Peralta yelled, banging on the edge of her bed, “You can’t sleep for the next 24 hours, especially now that you passed out once. Which means we’ll have plenty of time to strategize.”


	8. Chapter 8

Rosa paced the floor of Gina’s apartment, hoping with every step that the heaviness of her feet would bang holes in the cheap soft-wood. She was enraged, first at Gina for giving such awful advice, then at herself for sending Amy to the hospital, then at Gina again for refusing to let them see each other. Stopping, she roared and lashed out at the nearest object, bringing down a chair and breaking it in half.

“Come on, Gina! Let me see her!”

“No way,” Gina, for her part, was guarding the door with her body and a bottle of red wine, her face terrified behind a veneer of stern bravado. “If you go see Amy now, it’s all over. Girls _hate_ that needy stuff. It’s much easier if you just show up to work tomorrow, take her aside, and tell her you’re sorry she got hurt. Boom. _Guaranteed foreplay_.”

“You’re insane.”

“Says the girl who just broke one of my chairs in half.” Gina laughed harshly. Narrowing her eyes, she continued pensively, “Do you think that counts as police brutality? Because if so, I can probably sue the precinct for a refund…”

“I’ll pay for that anyway.” Rosa frowned down at the remains of the chair, trying to estimate the worth in her mind.

“Well, it’s antique, so it’s irreplaceable.”

“Cut the crap,” Rosa rolled her eyes, “I’m pretty sure I saw it at Ikea the other day. What was it, a hundred bucks?”

“Physically, perhaps,” Gina nodded sheepishly, “But emotionally, it’s irreplaceable.

“Anyway,” she continued in-between swigs of her wine, “Do you still want my help or not?”

Rosa gritted her teeth, making a show of tightening and untightening her fists as she thought it over. In every attempt at seduction so far, Amy had wound up hurt; if Rosa believed in God, she might have interpreted the events as a sign, some Deity looking down and scolding her, telling her she was wasting her time. Amy needed someone gentle, someone calm, someone who wouldn’t freak out and wind up in Gina’s apartment every time something went a little wrong. Someone who loved order and would be willing to help her restore it.

Could Rosa, realistically, be that person? She’d tried to get Gina to help, but it seemed, now, that she was incorrigible; didn’t that mean she should just give up, before Amy got hurt again?

Still, seeing her face every day around the precinct, watching the way her forehead creased and cheeks puffed out whenever she was focusing, or the way her posture faltered when she was talking with people she wanted to impress… Rosa couldn’t help but think that all of this was worth it. She would never be able to give up Amy, not really. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t the best course of action, anyway.

 “Rosa?” Gina cut in, snapping Diaz away from the fog of her own thoughts, “What do you say?”

 _I’ve got to let her go_.

She turned away, ignoring the question.


	9. Chapter 9

Amy ran into the break-room, slamming the door behind her and closing the blinds before collapsing into a nearby chair, breathing a sigh of relief. She’d barely been back at work for two hours, but Peralta hadn’t let her out of his sight, hissing down her neck about going to say hi to Rosa, wearing the wrong outfit, or some other ridiculous complaint. It wasn’t that Amy didn’t appreciate the effort he was making for her; she just needed time to _breathe_. It was enough to be back in the station, the paperwork stacked high on her desk in her absence and three new cases waiting for her. She couldn’t handle worrying about Rosa, too.

The door to the room clicked open, and Amy whipped around defensively, expecting to see a disappointed Peralta in the doorway. Unfortunately, she wasn’t that lucky.

“Sorry,” Rosa looked like a deer caught in headlights, “I can come back.”

“No!” Amy surprised herself with how urgently the protest came out. Sucking in a quick breath, she forced a smile and started over, “Ah… Why don’t you come sit?”

Rosa wavered for a moment, tossing a look over her shoulder, before emerging fully into the room, closing the door again.

“I’m sorry for concussing you.” Rosa’s words were blunt, her eyes downcast as she pulled out a chair next to Santiago and sat down.

“It wasn’t your fault!” Amy protested, again much too urgently.

_Get it together, Santiago._

“No, it was. I haven’t been on my A game lately, and I let Gina’s opinion on footwear trump common sense because of that. I just… I’ve been occupied, is all, but I didn’t want to hurt you. I wouldn’t ever want to.”

Amy felt her jaw go slack. Had _Rosa_ just said she wouldn’t want to hurt Amy? Rosa Diaz, who hit Hitchcock at least once every day even though she said he was “like a grandpa” to her (a stupid, senile grandpa, but a grandpa nonetheless)? Clicking her mouth closed, she tried to supress her smile, reminding herself that they were in a serious conversation. And she was part of the reason for that.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault,” she answered, being completely honest, “I wasn’t really on my A-game, either. Normally, I could have dodged you, or stepped aside, or since he was completely paralyzed in fear, honestly, just dropped him and caught you. But… I was really distracted, for reasons I’m not proud of.”

“I get it,” Rosa nodded, “You need to get laid.”

Amy frowned at Rosa, but didn’t have the energy to protest. Diaz didn’t even know how right she was, anyway, and Amy couldn’t begrudge her that.

“No shame in it,” Rosa continued, “Been a while for me, too.”

“But you only broke up with your boyfriend two weeks ago.” Amy looked at Rosa in disbelief. She was torn between fascination, jubilation, and discomfort, but didn’t want to blow the moment by voicing any of those feelings.

“Yeah, but I never really liked him, to be honest. Had my eye on someone else for a long time, but…” Rosa trailed off. Amy bit her tongue, her heart pounding, questions burning in her throat.

_Who?_

“I’m in the same boat. It’s like they never notice me.” was all Amy could say. Thinking for a moment, she added sheepishly, “Well, not in the way I _want_ them too, at least.”

“Exactly!” it was Rosa, this time, who was a little too enthusiastic. They laughed together, light and happy, before quieting, silence weighing down the air for a moment. Finally, the burning curiosity was too much for Santiago; she _had_ to know who she was competing with.

“Competing… With?” Rosa repeated with a confused expression, and Amy gasped, mortified that she’d spoken aloud.

“I didn’t—I mean… _You’re_ not the one who I’ve been…” she stammered, but before she could finish digging that grave, Rosa leaned over and pressed a hand to Amy’s mouth, silencing her.

“Amy,” Rosa smiled, a softness in her face which Santiago had never seen before, “I like you. A lot. And I thought you’d never like me back. All the ridiculous schemes, the perfume, the outfit, the awkward conversations… Even not coming to see you. I did those things because Gina said they’d make me look better in your eyes.”

“Wait,” Amy laughed from behind Rosa’s hand, “You asked _Gina_ for love advice?”

“What?” Rosa defended herself, and Amy laughed harder, swiping Rosa away.

“I asked _Peralta_ for advice, for the same reason. That day you thought my back was hurting, that was his suggestion. A _lot_ of really, really stupid stuff was his suggestion, but… I was desperate.”

“Desperate... For _me_?” Rosa was smiling, but Amy could tell from the expression in her eyes that the other cop was completely serious, maybe even a little uncertain. She nodded.

“Looks like we were both kind of misled, weren’t we?”

“Yeah,” Rosa laughed, “Looks like we were.”

They sat there for a moment, chuckling to each other, shooting coy glances and letting silence overtake the room again. Finally, Rosa broke the silence, grabbing Amy’s hand.

“So… Are we gonna bone, or…?”

“Oh my God,” Amy sighed theatrically, “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Interrogation room?”

“Interrogation room.” returning Rosa’s iron grip, Amy stood up and ran, Rosa beside her.

They left the break-room door swinging open. 


	10. Chapter 10

“Aww.” Gina cocked her head, her arms folded in front of her chest in satisfaction, “They’re so cute when they’re going at it like a couple of hormonal teenagers.”

“Yeah…” Peralta smiled from between the hands covering his face, “But I didn’t expect it to be so _weird_ to see Diaz and Santiago making out. Especially not this _loudly_.” He and Gina were behind the glass in the interrogation room, watching as Rosa and Amy made out, Rosa’s leather jacket tossed carelessly on the floor, Amy pressing down against the interrogation table with Rosa leaning in between her thighs and heaving loud moans at interval.

“Still, it’s nice to know that my efforts were fruitful.” Gina continued, at which Peralta shot her a double-take.

“What do you mean _your_ efforts?” Jake threw down his hands and turned to face Gina, “It was _my_ lady-killing that resulted in the amalgamation of Team Amrosa.”

“Whoa, there, Jakey,” Gina laughed indignantly, “First of all, the superior couple name is _clearly_ Rosamy. Second, you kinda suck at everything romance-related, so I think we both know that it was all Rosa getting them together, which means it was all _moi_.”

“You? Don’t make me laugh!”

“What’s to laugh at?  I coached Rosa personally, and see where they are now?” she gestured to the window, pulling a face when she saw that Amy had pushed Rosa up against a wall and was biting along her neck. “Oh. Ew.”

“Agreed,” Jake walked towards the glass to get a better look, “About the making out, that is. Because _I_ coached Amy, and _we_ didn’t send Rosa to the emergency room. Twice.”

“Um, that was _one time_. And look at how hot Amy found it! Plus Holt complimented her as a result.”

“Well, isn’t that just—“

“HEY!” they jumped at the loud, sudden interruption. Rosa was pressed up against the glass, staring at them with knives in her eyes. “Do you idiots mind?”

“God,” Jake muttered, “How does she do that? She’s literally staring through the mirror.”

“I have my ways.” Rosa answered him, enunciating every word like it was a dart she was throwing. “Now shut up and leave.”

“Seriously,” Amy piped up behind her, “Do you guys know how loud you were being?”

“I’m guessing not nearly as loud as—“

“LEAVE!” Rosa cut Jake off before he could finish his joke, punching the mirror in his direction. With a little squeak, he and Gina obliged.

 

Rosa waited for the door on the other side of the room to slam closed before turning back to Amy, smiling mischeviously. Amy laughed, grabbing Rosa around the waist and pulling her close.

“Now,” Rosa breathed onto Amy’s neck, caressing her arms, “Where were we?”

 

 


End file.
